He sits back in his chair and stares off at nothing. He doesn’t speak for so long I think that maybe he didn’t understand me.

“Did you hear what I said?”

He nods. “I just don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.”

“But it’s not for sure.”

“No, it’s not for sure.”

I tell him how Damien LeFeaux recanted his testimony. I tell him about Mrs. Wheeler and her notebooks. I tell him about the hair found in Cassandra’s bed that’s a match to Paul Winfro. I tell him about Winfro and about how he’s going on trial for attempted murder in Mexico. I tell him about how impressed the people at the Freedom Project were with how easy we’ve made their job.

I don’t tell him about Leo and me. I don’t tell him about Dylan and Cassandra. I don’t tell him that our dad’s in the hospital for alcohol poisoning…again. I don’t tell him what our mom said when I told her Beau could be freed. And I don’t tell him that it was Winfro seeing Beau leave Cassandra’s apartment that night that drove him to rape and murder her, because in Winfro’s mind they were a couple and she cheated on him with Beau.

When I’m done speaking I see something in my brother that I haven’t seen since before Cassandra died—hope. I want to start crying all over again. The rush of relief is so great I nearly sag from it. We’re in the home stretch.

He doesn’t speak for a long time. There’s so much to absorb. I lived it and I still get overwhelmed when I think about it all.

“I don’t—” His voice cracks. He puts his face in his hands and takes a deep, shaky breath. When he lowers them his eyes are red from unshed tears. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh, Beau. I wanted this for you for so long. I’m just so sorry it’s taken almost six years.”

“Sorry? Jesus, Cora. What do you have to be sorry about?”

More than I have words for. There’s so much more that needs to be fixed.

“Thank you for not listening to me when I told you to fuck off and stop investigating. Thank you for being the only person”—he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and takes a breath—“who believed in me.”

I want to reach across the table and take his hand. More than that I want to hold him and tell him everything’s going to be okay.

He rubs his eyes. When his hands fall away I can see that his eyelashes are clumped and wet. “Are you going to get a life now?”

“I have a life.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“What happened with Leo?”

I rub my lips together and look away.

“Ah, shit, Cora. Really? You fucked that up because of me, didn’t you?”

“It’s fucked up, but not because of you.”

“I liked him for you. He seemed like the kind of guy who would call you on your shit.”

I nod. “He did that.” Too well.

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I know. I fucked it up.”

“Because of me.”

I don’t meet his gaze.

“Goddamn it, Cora. You gotta stop this shit. Get a life. You’ve put yours off for too long because of me. Go get him back or else I’m not going to talk to you when I get out.”

I jerk my head up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that. You finally believe you’re going to get out of here.”

“It only took two thousand one hundred and—”

“Fifty-three days,” I finish for him.

He stares at me in disbelief. “Fuck me, Cora. You may as well be doing time in the cell next to me.”

I feel almost as though I have.

“That’s it.” He gets up from the table. “Don’t visit me. Don’t write me. Don’t talk to me until you get your shit together. I have enough to deal with in here without being responsible for fucking up your life too. You’re not putting that on me.” He storms out without a backward glance.

I can’t move. He’s never spoken to me like that before.

A guard approaches the table. “Time to go.”

“Right. Okay.”

I get up and go through the routine of getting out of this hellhole. The drive through the desert is a blur. I don’t remember the songs that played on the radio. I take the wrong freeway and keep going. I’m going to get my life back.

Chapter 36 Leo

I hate my criminal law professor. I should be at a party with my roommate, getting shitfaced. Instead, I’m working on some bullshit side project that gets me an in with him but doesn’t do shit for my grade. The doorbell rings. Finally. I swear. For as many times as we order pizza from this place, they never seem to get it here while it’s still hot.

I swing the door open, my hand on my ass ready to pull my wallet out, and freeze.

“Hi.” Cora. On my doorstep. “Can I come in?” She shifts from foot to foot, her gaze sweeping the interior of my apartment.

“Ahh, yeah. Sure.” I hold the door open for her. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” She walks past me and her scent hits me with memories.

I close the door and point to the couch. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

We’re so fucking polite.

We sit in awkward silence. It’s been sixty-three days since I’ve seen her. You’d think her impact on me would’ve been lessened by them, but no. I’m just as fucked where she’s concerned as the day I watched her drive away from Mike’s house.

“I saw Beau today.”

“Yeah? How’s he doing?”

“Good. I told him the good news.”

“He must be relieved.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I’m glad. I hope everything works out with the hearing.”

“Me too.”

“Why are you here?” I think I have the right to ask that after everything.

She rubs her palms on her jeans. “I came to tell you that you were right.”

“About what?”

“Me. Us. Everything.”

What does she expect me to say? There is no “us” for me to be right about.

I jab a thumb over my shoulder. “I have a project due Monday.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ll get to the point.”

She digs her palms into her thighs. I notice all of her fingernails are bitten down to nothing. The makeup around her eyes is smudged and missing in places. There’s a tear in her shirt. She’s lost weight. And her hair, always so perfect before, is black before the blue starts. But there’s not a woman in the world who compares to her.

She turns her body fully toward me. “What I said to you that day on the beach. It’s true. It’s more true now than it was then. Everything with Beau isn’t settled. The hearing might not go his way. I’m going to take a chance here because if I don’t he might never speak to me again.”

“Is that why you’re here, because he made you come?”

She shakes her head. “No. Beau’s never been able to make me do anything. Pisses him off.”

“I know the feeling,” I mumble.

“Anyway, he said something that was a lot like something you said and it got me thinking. About life and about how I’ve been doing time like him except on the outside. And I realized that even when he gets out I’ll still think of reasons why I can’t move on until he does. It could be forever, maybe. Or not at all, if the judge decides there’s not enough evidence to free him.

“I looked into the future and it scared the shit out of me. I can’t go on like I have been. And I especially can’t go on without you. Because I love you and I want you in my life. I want you to be sitting next to me, holding my hand, when the judge delivers his decision. And I want to go home with you and deal with whatever that decision is. So I’m here asking if you still feel the same about me and if you’re willing to walk through the uncertainty with me.”

My body moves before my brain tells it to. I’m kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in mine. They feel small and strange and familiar all at the same time. She’s crying when I kiss her. I can’t believe I went so long without touching her and kissing her.